#myfaxlt

[mostloquacious-archive-blog]

myfaxlt

☠—-   ❝You've been sittin' like that for an hour.                 Are you all right?❞

[junkie-jesse-blog]

contin | myfaxlt

“…. And snowing means there’s shoveling and when there’s shoveling to do, the best call is to hide from responsibility and drink hot chocolate.” End of story. 

    "Uh, no, snow means not being a cry-baby loser and actually going outside to have fun. Yo, fuck responsibility let's go explore the snow or some shit!"

[mxregeous]

myfaxlt

        "Kieren Walker! Gotta say,                          you look amazing!"

[howdidhegetin]

Come on Up for the Rising [closed w/ myfaxlt]

myfaxlt

The Doctor raised an eyebrow as he stepped out of the TARDIS. This didn't look like Los Angeles in the 1980s. There was far too much greenery and far too few skyscrapers. In fact, there were no skyscrapers, at all. He ran a hand through his hair and gave the TARDIS a look.

"What are you up to, old girl?" he muttered. He had been certain to set the coordinates right, this time. His smile returned. Ah, well! Nothing he could do about it now! Well, he supposed he could just get back into the TARDIS and fly off, but where would the fun be in that? There was a mystery now, and a new place to explore. He put his hands in his pockets and strutted down the street, taking in the sights. 

There weren't very many. It seemed like just a normal small village somewhere in the UK (he still wasn't quite sure where), but he hadn't run into a single person during his entire walk. More than that, there were some interesting messages spray-painted on walls and signs and even the street.

"GOD BLESS THE HVF"

"ROTTERS GET OUT"

"A ROTTER IS ALWAYS A ROTTER"

The Doctor had no idea what these meant. What was the HVF? What was a 'rotter'? Whatever it was, he assumed that it wasn't very nice. This didn't seem like a very friendly village, at all. He frowned a little, but continued his walk. He hoped he could find someone who would explain all of this.

He smiled as he came upon a bar. There were bound to be people in there! Friendly or not, he was curious and he still didn't know where he was. He walked inside, flashing a megawatt grin at all of the patrons and staff (people! finally!) before going up to the bar and ordering a banana daiquiri. 

"You know, I invented the banana daiquiri," he commented to the server, "By accident, of course, but what else are you going to do at a party full of French monarchs, eh?" 

[greyistari-archive]

myfaxlt

thelittleburglar

faeblood

thehobbitelo

   "Seems as though it might rain later, don't you agree?"

[lovebeforebelief-blog]

La Ville-Lumière [ Simon & Kieren ]

The decision had been made during an early morning walk two weeks prior. They would go to Paris, together -- to escape the ULA and to give Kieren a chance to pursue his art career. Two birds with one stone. Sue and Steve hadn't been thrilled about the idea of the two of them "shacking up", as Jem had so delicately suggested, but after a long chat with Steve, Simon had him convinced that it was the right choice for the both of them. The Walkers were kind enough to help with their train tickets to London and their airfare; Simon secured a flat not far from the city center thanks to an old contact in Marseille. 

Two weeks felt like a long time and Simon felt his anxiety climbing as the days wore on. Would Kieren change his mind? They had talked about it, extensively, and while everything seemed squared away, there was always room for that inkling of doubt. Kieren had told him not long ago that miles would not change anything; did he still think that now?

The short time came to pass without issue and thus, Simon's fear were put to rest. If Kieren had a problem with the move to Paris, he hadn't said anything. There were no tearful goodbyes -- only tight hugs from the Walker family as the two stood in the foyer with their luggage. The train ride to London and the plane ride to Paris were both spent in silence. Every once in a while, Simon's fingers would find their way to Kieren's, and they would tangle together so tightly one would think they were going to meet their demise.

When they landed in the Charles de Gaulle airport, there was already a cab waiting for them to take them to the flat. Their fingers remained twisted together during the cab ride, even as they both looked out of their own window at the city they were to call home. They arrived with no issues and Simon was able to pick up the keys and information packet from the landlady. She was a cheery woman with round cheeks and bright red lipstick. She reminded Simon too much of Amy. A man in a dark grey suit helped them haul their luggage to the seventh floor.

Once the man -- Fabien, Simon recalled -- had left, Simon proceeded to begin unpacking. The flat was small for having two bedrooms (he had been operating under the assumption that Kieren may not be ready to share a room with him, and Steve and Sue had been comforted by this fact as well) but it was cozy. The furnishings were not incredibly shabby and there was a vintage record player that Simon could already tell he would adore. The walls were painted a dull taupe that would certainly have to go, or be covered, because it was making the living space seem depressing.

Before long, Simon had situated all of his belongings in his room and padded out into the living room to take a look at the record player. He fiddled with the dust cover as the silence between him and Kieren stretched on. Finally, after he was finished examining the equipment, he turned to Kieren and smiled gently.

"What are you thinking?" It wasn't the question he had intended to ask; he was aiming for something less serious. Truth be told, he was scared to know Kieren's answer, so he waited in anticipation and braced himself for words he was not ready to hear.